Blood of Steel Book 1: The Man of Tomorrow
by Mara Winchester
Summary: A retelling of the DCEU, through the eyes of Beatrice Kent, Clark Kent's younger sister. Beatrice attempts to make sense of her world, in the aftermath a devastating alien attack, that forces her older brother, a lost soul, to become, The Man of Tomorrow. Part One in a Series.
1. Introduction

The farms in this area have flooded before.

The last time they flooded, was when Daddy was a child. Momma says that the floods had wiped out the farm before, our family livelihood. Grandpa Kent had seen his father become a broken man from the floods: he wouldn't let the floods.

Daddy and his brother Harry were woken up in the middle of the night, working until dawn, putting down sandbag after sandbag, water coming up to their chest. After a few hours, the rain stopped, and the farm was saved.

But it came at a great price. Daddy had misdirected the path, causing the water to flood the Lang's family farm next door.

Smallville Lore states that the Lang's and the Kent's came to Kansas nearly a hundred years earlier after the Civil War tore our country apart. The horrors of the war made them want to start over, leaving their old lives to start anew in Kansas. They figured if the country could start over, so could they.

Momma said as far as she could figure, the Lang's recovered nicely, but she didn't learn the truth until after she and Daddy were married: the Lang's horses had drowned, slowly and painfully, crying as water filled their lungs. Grandpa Kent tried to help the Lang's get to them, but it was too late by the time they were able to.

Their cries haunted Daddy's dreams for years, sometimes causing him to wake in a panic, yelling that he had to save the horses, he had to get to them. Momma would sit with him, coo at him, telling him everything was going to be okay until he could go back to sleep.

Momma would tell me these stories at night, whispering them to me across the sheets. it was almost therapeutic for her, to tell me these stories. It made her feel less lonely, to keep these secrets so close to her chest.

Sometimes I wonder how she did it, raising me all on her own, managing a family farm, and somehow maintaining a seemingly okay life.

then I remember that her blood is made of steel. Blood given to her by her ancestors, that worked hard to give her life. Blood that she passed onto me, allowing me to connect with my small yet perfect family.

Blood I will shed to protect the ones I love.


	2. Chapter One

This is the part where I tell you that Daddy's been dead for a long time. Momma says he died in a tornado, the powerful winds sweeping him up into the air, his body eventually being thrown into nearby Barber County.

"Why did he die?" I asked Momma, years and years ago, during one of our famous late-night conversations. She looked at me sadly, her eyes bright with emotion. "He was protecting your brother."

That's all I ever knew about Daddy's death. She wouldn't go into details, his death, even years later, was still too fresh in Momma's eyes. She would change the subject, talk about how they met instead.

Momma and Daddy met in high school when he was a senior and she was a sophomore. Momma had moved here from Norman, right before freshman year, Grandpa Clark accepting a position as the manager of the local Sears.

They kept running into each other, at school, Football games, even the local youth group at church. Momma said he didn't like to talk a lot, very shy. His brother Harry was the one all the girls went crazy for, at least that's what Momma claimed. But finally, one day in Study Hall, she asked him if he was going to walk her home that day. He agreed.

They married several years later, having to wait due to Momma's parents sending her off to typist school, thinking she could be a stenographer. Momma was twenty when she finally got to marry "her guy."

The plan was to save up enough to buy their own little apartment in town, joking that they were going to be city folks.

The plan died when Uncle Harry was cleaning out the barn and a floor beam gave out underneath him. Daddy, not wanting to sell the farm, convinced Momma to stay, at least until the Harvest was over, saying that they would sell shortly thereafter.

"Were you upset, that you weren't gonna sell the farm?" I would ask.

"Nah, I had my guy. And for the most part, we were happy." Momma would tell me.

"For the most part?"

"I was missing something."

"What?"

Momma would smile at me at this point. "Children."

Momma had been an only child and had been one of those girls who had wanted to have children even when she was a child. The plan was with Daddy to have a big family, enough to rival the Von Trapp Family.

"But the years kept passing, and no matter how hard we tried and prayed, nothing was happening." Momma would get quiet and her voice would fill with emotion. "I thought it was my fault, your Daddy kept thinking maybe, maybe it was his fault. It seemed like we weren't going to have a big family. Like it was only going to be just the two of us."

Momma said at one point, Daddy had read about a treatment, the "in vetro thingy," and had spent a couple of years trying to save up for it, sometimes even taken on odd jobs on the other farms.

"What happened?" I would ask.

Momma would look away, and smile to herself. "God gave us a miracle."

She's referring to Clark, my older brother.

Clark Joseph Kent.

Clark was seventeen when I was born, a junior at Smallville High School. A member of the football team, honor roll. He was kind, willing to help others. I feel for him, when I think of some of my earliest memories, him chasing me through the fields, giggling as he pretended to be an evil monster, tending to whatever scrap knee or injury I would get, being a soothing figure in those moments.

Because he had to be both my older brother and a surrogate father, at the age where most guys are well, aren't.

I probably knew Clark was adopted before I even knew what the word meant. It wasn't from a story Momma told: it was from the town of Smallville itself.

Smallville, population, 23,678, as of the 2010 census, the largest of all the towns in Comanche County. Large enough that you don't know everyone, but small enough certain individuals stand out.

Clark was one of them, but not for reasons you would think. He was thought strange, having a sensitivity towards light and sound, Momma spending a good chunk of Clark's childhood having to run up to the school a few times a month, because Clark had locked himself in a closet, leading local gossip to suggest he had a "disorder" of sorts, even though nearly every specialist of said 'disorder' in the damn state itself assured Momma and his teachers that he didn't.

But there were other incidents. Incidents that Momma never talks about, telling me it's not in the Kent nature to discuss them.

Other kids, however, were not raised with our nature. It wasn't out of the ordinary for those kids to come up to me on the playground, ready with questions about the incidents I wasn't supposed to talk about.

"is it true your brother pulled a bus out of the river?"

"My older brother says Clark once tackled a guy so hard, he was in the hospital for six weeks!"

"Ms. Scott says your brother has the hearing of a Bat."

Sometimes I would shrug, tell them I didn't know. Every once in a while, however, there would be one that would keep pressing.

"what do you mean you don't know? Isn't he your brother?"

I would shrug, tell them he didn't live with us anymore.

That's when they would give up. "Whatever Bea, pass the ball."

That worked until I was ten.

One day during recess, one of the sixth graders, cystic acne all over his face, came over to me while I was playing HORSE with a couple other of kids.

"Your brother's a freak." He told me point blank, his lip lifting in a sneer as he said it, revealing his multi-colored braces.

Something inside me snapped. I threw the ball over to Lacie Lang, my regular playmate, walked over to the kid and punched him straight in the nose, causing him to fall to the ground.

The principal couldn't keep stop laughing as he told a horrified Momma about how two teachers ran over, to find this sixth grader lying on the ground crying, while Lacie Lang and a few others kept playing HORSE with me, a bruised and bloody hand giving away my crime.

She brought me home, telling me to go my room, and that I was to stay there until she got me. I didn't regret it though. The kid had it coming.

Later in the evening, I sneaked out of my room, the silent house making me think that no one was home.

I quietly walked down the staircase, which I had walked up and down a million times over, knowing which steps to avoid, due to the unnatural squeak they would let out if any pressure was placed on them.

The initial goal was to grab food, as though I was a scavenger of sorts, grabbing some food from the fridge to satisfy my hunger. I quietly opened the fridge, opening a Tupperware of leftover pulled pork, grabbing it by the handful, attempting to ease my hunger before sneaking back upstairs, before Momma knew I wasn't in my room anymore.

I turned, looking at the back door, looking at the shed.

I had seen that shed a million times over, sometimes sneaking a peek into it, seeing only darkness in return. Momma had told me that it was Daddy's workplace, a bunch of projects left unfished by his death, and there were tools in them that could hurt, possibly kill me.

It was a general rule I wasn't allowed in there, at least, until I was big enough to avoid being hurt by basic machinery.

I don't remember how I got to the shed, I honestly don't remember. I don't know how I got from the kitchen to the shed. Why did I go in there? What could have possibly motivated me to go there?

The next I'm in the shed, pulling off this dusty piece of tarp, to reveal this…unnatural thing. It was bigger than anything I had ever seen before, and unlike anything, I had seen as well.

I don't know how long I was there before Momma found me, yelling at me to get away from it.

And I did, running past her and into the cornfield, my mind spinning. Did I just see a real spaceship? Is it the thing that killed Daddy and not a tornado? Why is it in our shed? Am I going to be taken away because I saw this!

I ran until I was far enough away that I couldn't hear Momma screaming my name, her voice bellowing into the empty night.

I remember sitting at the base of a tree, my breathing becoming more rapid with each passing second. Eventually, the panic wore off and I must have passed out from exhaustion.

That night I dreamt of the fields being flooded like when Daddy was a child, the water coming up to my chest. I swam as best as I could back to the house, Momma hanging for her life onto the mailbox. I tried to reach for her, but just as I did, the mailbox broke, the water then pulling my mother underwater, as I screamed for her.

I woke up screaming, having been convinced I had actually been experiencing it. From the East, I saw the sun peak over the horizon, letting me know that I had been out there nearly all night.

"Hello, Squirt." A familiar voice greeted me.

Momma and Daddy had stopped trying when they brought Clark into their lives, so naturally, they were surprised when what they thought was an ulcer was actually, well, me. Momma said Daddy fainted when he heard the news because he had just turned forty-six and thought he was too old to be raising another child.

I was born nearly a month later, less than three pounds and not expected to live long. To the surprise of everyone, well save for Momma, who once more had prayed that I would live, I lived longer than the two projected hours, though my first month was spent in a ventilator, and kindergarten was delayed a year, due to me being so small and sickly in those early years. Because of how small I was (and to some degree, still am), Clark deemed me 'squirt'.

"How did you find me?" I asked him. Clark kneeled down next to me so that our eyes could meet on the same level, before tapping a finger next to his ear. "I, ear, everything."

The pun was intended.

Clark had arrived almost an hour earlier, having decided to stop by to see Momma for her birthday, only to have been distressed when he found Momma in the living room, upset over my disappearance. After calming her down, he had set off for me.

Clark had a way with me, a way to disarm me, making me laugh in times when I've thought I was unable to, assuring me with those blue eyes and his slightly crooked but clean teeth that everything was going to be alright. Not right now of course, but soon.

I remember him taking my hand, walking me back to the house, him answering every question I asked.

"Did Daddy know about this?"

"Yes."

"how long have you been like this?"

"All my life."

"Are you a superhero?"

Clark paused, looking at the sky for a moment before back at me. "I don't know, should I? It sounds better than tending bar."

I giggled, allowing him to lead me to the house, distracting me with an ever-grateful Mother who let me stay home from school so I could hang out with Clark.

Clark stayed for that harvest, helping Mom tend to the fields, making sure the wheat was sent off in time and making sure I wouldn't get into any more trouble. I got used to every night, the three of us having dinner together.

Naturally, the two of us got into adventures together. Clark driving with me as fast as we could on the highway in the dead of night, Clark sneaking me into an R rated movie. My favorite of that time was one day, Clark went to visit Lana Lang and found that her Border Collie had had puppies, and found the runt rolling around in the dust outside, happy as that puppy could be.

Clark, to the surprise of no one, pulled out all the cash he had on him, and stuffed the puppy into the car, giving him a bath and placing a bow around his neck to gift him to me as a late birthday present, christening him 'Dusty'.

But by the end of the harvest, Clark got seemingly restless again. that's what Momma called it, restless. Clark would show up every few months, stay for a week, sometimes less, before leaving again, usually in the middle of the night so that we didn't have to say goodbye.

He'd try to keep in regular contact, sending a postcard here, calling on Birthdays and holidays, if he couldn't be there with us. He wouldn't go into much detail about where he was, mainly because he didn't want us to worry.

Momma, of course, was worried about him. If we went longer than a few weeks without contact from him, she would be checking obituaries and newspapers, wondering if perhaps he forgot to put her as his emergency contact and that he was dead in a ditch somewhere that she didn't know about.

Momma wouldn't force him to stay, however, having apparently given up that battle a long time ago. I would hear her at night, in her room, quietly praying.

"Please protect my son Clark, and aide him on whatever journey he's on. Please, help him find answers, some guidance, so that he may find peace, and to return home, wherever that may be."

The night before he left, I sat up on the front porch with him, Clark having a beer while we watched the stars shoot across the sky.

"So, do you have to go?" I asked him.

He sighed, slightly annoyed. "Bea, I got to do this." He told me, "I have questions that Smallville can't answer."

"What Questions?"

He put down his beer, looking at me with a very serious face. "Bea…these powers and abilities…I don't know where they came from. I don't know if it's an accidental freak of nature, or if I come from somewhere, where they all have it."

"But you're still my brother, right?"

He blinked, surprise. "well, yes."

"And you're always going to be my brother?"

Clark hugged me, holding me close as he did so. "I refuse to consider a universe where I'm not."

Of course, knowing what I know now, there are universes where I and Clark would have never crossed paths or even ones where neither of us ever existed. I knew, however, how hard this personal quest was for him. How he had to sacrifice so much to chase the possibility of finding one fact about his biological family. Something to satisfy that seemingly unquenchable need to do so.

But he never let me think for one second that I was alone, that nobody had my back.

I made a promise that night, that I would forever have his back, that I would protect him any way I could.

Even at the cost of my own life.

Seasons passed. Clark's visits home got shorter, and the time in-between the visits get longer. It's harder to keep in touch with someone who lives life off the grid, who the last time they had an email was when they went to Kansas State for a handful of semesters.

Still, the bond between us was strong, even if we didn't share the same blood. He was still my brother, I would protect him no matter the cost.

By the time I'm sixteen, I've given up being angry at Clark leaving, I was more jealous than angry. Clark had gotten out, by his own merits.

Not by football, or basketball. Not by enlisting in the military the moment he turned eighteen. Not even by some scholarship to MIT, though saying that, Wichita State was probably the closest you could get to MIT in here.

He got out. that's all that mattered by the time I was sixteen. All these kids, who had once had this passion to get out of Smallville, the passion was beginning to die.

I didn't want that, so I was studying as hard as I could. Enrolling in as many STEM classes as I could. I wanted to study the stars.

Naturally, this was a selfish interest. I wanted to help Clark, help him figure out where he came from, help him stop running off to try and find an answer that didn't really exist.

Sometimes, I would watch lectures on YouTube, where professors from Yale or Harvard would talk about the possibility of life other than us, life beyond the stars.

How much I wanted to be able to be in the lecture hall, and scream out "WE'RE NOT ALONE I HAVE PROOF! I HAVE PROOF WE ARE NOT ALONE!"

But then Clark would be exposed, and well, the idea of for the rest of my life, living with that level of guilt? It made me sick, just thinking of it.

Then again, everyone at one point or another has thought their brother was an alien.

By the time I was sixteen, I hadn't seen Clark in almost a year and a half hadn't talked to him in almost six months. The last thing I had heard anything from him was that he was working up in Alaska, on a fishing boat. Momma was worried about him, knowing that while he could handle it, physically of course, mentally, she knew it was draining.

That was the last time we had heard from him, until the Reporter showed, and threw our world into chaos.


	3. Chapter Two

By the time Lois came into town, Clark's 'freak' nature had died down. The classmates didn't taunt me by calling him a freak anymore. I wasn't "the sister of the freak" anymore. Instead, I was, "Beatrice Kent, her brother played on the football team, they won State, remember?"

There were still people, convinced that Clark was an Angel of sorts, but they never caused any trouble. They kept those opinions to themselves.

It was in the fall of 2013 that SHE showed up on the doorstep. I had been in my room, looking into a dual-credit program at Kansas State. A dual-credit program that was everything I wanted, save for being so expensive, I knew there was no way Momma could afford it. She had already been struggling to pay the help for the Harvest, not to mention the loan on the farm, the payments of which seemed to get larger with each month.

That's when I heard a rumbling, the familiar sound of tires on the dusty pathway to the farm. I looked out my window, expecting a truck, which everyone in town seemed to drive. Instead, it was a nice looking red car, being covered in dust.

I ran to the edge of the staircase. "MOMMA! MOM!" I yelled, "THERE'S A CAR COMING!"

Momma had been in the living room, sitting at Daddy's desk, doing Harvest stuff. "WHAT TYPE OF CAR!" she yelled back.

I didn't have to answer that, because by that point the car had pulled up to the house, catching Dusty's attention, who begin to bark.

Momma left the desk, heading to the front door. I ran down the stairs, coming into earshot of the woman talking with Momma.

"-And I'd like to talk to you about your son." She stated, in a calm voice.

I came up behind Momma, looking the woman at the door up and down. A serious face, a slightly turned up nose, and long red hair.

Momma was turned from me, but I could tell the look on her face. A nicely dressed woman doesn't come to your door, asking to talk about your son, unless something bad has happened.

"Is he dead?" Momma asked in a hushed tone.

"As far as I know, he's not, but I have some questions, that I think you have some answers to." The woman replied.

Momma turned to me, motioning with a single finger, to go back to my room. I called Dusty, who came up reluctantly, wanting to protect Momma from this strange woman.

Momma let the woman in, who stepped in almost daintily like. Momma walked past her, running into the kitchen, to offer her some tea or coffee, and possibly to hide a minor panic attack.

I stayed on the staircase, watching the woman. The woman looked up at me, a quizzical look on her face. "What's your name?" she asked.

I said nothing, merely looking at her. Momma came out of the kitchen, realizing she hadn't directed the woman to the living room. "Beatrice April, Room!" she said, pointing upstairs.

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, waiting until the Woman and Momma went into the living room. Dusty was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, letting me know he didn't trust the woman either.

"Stubborn as a mule, I'd tell you. Just like her Father." Momma told her, her voice fading as I closed the door to my room.

Dusty liked to sleep with me, so naturally, he jumped on the bed, going to the edge, watching me as I lowered myself to the floor, attempting to listen in.

"So, what paper did you say you wrote for again?" Momma asked, probably as she offered the woman something.

"The Daily Planet," she replied, probably waving her hand at whatever glass of something Momma was offering her, letting her know she wasn't thirsty.

I had heard of the Daily Planet, knowing they were a major paper out on the East Coast, like the New York Times. I didn't know anybody who read it though.

"so, Clark and Beatrice?" the woman asked. "There seems to be a major age gap between the two of them."

Momma nodded, "Yes, um, we had adopted Clark back in the day, one of the neighbor's daughters, I forget which had um, gotten unexpectedly pregnant-"

"Mrs. Kent, I um, I've encountered your son." The woman interrupted Momma.

Momma sighed. "Good or bad," Momma said it in the form of a statement, knowing that the encountered had led to a strange woman showing up on her doorstep.

I went back to my computer, typing in the Daily Planet into the search engine, searching for a picture to match the woman downstairs.

One of the first articles that popped up, featured her picture, with the name, Lois Joanne Lane. Her resume was impressive. She was a so-called 'Army Brat', who had grown up on military bases with her sister, studied at an Ivy League school, embedded herself with an Army unit mere days after graduation (can't help but wonder if Daddy didn't pull some strings there). Had already won two Pulitzer by the time she was thirty, the first a year after her army stint no less.

"So, what is a crack journalist doing here, asking questions about Clark?" I whispered to Dusty, who cocked his head sideways, confused as well.

I sat on the bed, looking at the various articles she had written before I heard the door close, causing me to go to the window.

I watched her walk to the car, unsure of what she would do next. She turned, and looked up at me, before going to the car.

Dusty and I went downstairs, where Momma stood in the kitchen, two fingers on her lips, looking out at the back door, at the fields.

Momma said when Clark was a kid, he didn't have a lot of friends. Correction, he had no friends. Momma liked to joke and say that was before his growth spurt the summer before freshman year, after which "the girls were throwing themselves at him, like flies to honey."

His powers, made everything awkward back then, enough that the teacher would have to forgo group projects if they had Clark in their class because they didn't want him to feel more left out then he already was.

Daddy bought him a dog around the age of nine or so. Daddy had gotten him from one of our neighbor's litter, feeling sorry for the little guy because he was the runt of the litter. "If I didn't take him, they probably would have drowned him, poor guy." Was all Daddy said when Momma protested a dog being brought in.

Clark however, bonded with that dog, spending his free time running around with him out in the fields. Momma said she would find excuses to come into the kitchen, just so that she could watch her son running around outside, laughing and playing with his only friend.

. "Is Clark okay?" I asked her.

"I don't know baby girl, I don't know." Her voice sounded far away, as though she was still locked in those memories of the past.

The next day I stayed late, having gone to Smallville High's STEM Club meeting. Compared to other STEM clubs, it was a joke, due to the lack of belief in the club's meeting. I was one of two girls in the club, the other one being a girl named Amy, who wore thick glasses and made me feel like a real hick when it came to the sciences.

We met in the Computer Lab for an hour and a half twice a month during the fall, mainly because Football took up everyone's schedule, even if you weren't on the team, you got involved in some way, because it was usually the only way you could have access to a social life in a town like Smallville.

Usually we met from about three to six, but this meeting had ended around four, because the club's president, an awkward chubby kid by the name of Asher had gotten a callback for the Sears in town, and had decided that our agenda for that meeting (deciding who should bring what for the Club's Christmas Party, because this is Smallville and we don't say Holiday Gathering like those heathens in Texas do) could be done over text message.

I was outside the school, sitting with Amy and a few other members, thinking of going to the local IHOP, which was about a mile away by foot, where we could wait for our rides for the next few hours when I saw her car approach. The woman came out of the car, crossing her arms at me.

She wore a red button-up shirt, which seemed old and familiar and probably cost more money than my Walmart backpack did.

"Beatrice Kent?" she asked. I grabbed my backpack, nodding at the rest of the club members before going up to talk to her.

"You know, stalking isn't a nice thing to do," I told her. She did a little smirk, as though she found that insult funny. "Seriously though, what are you doing?" I asked.

"My name is Lois Lane. I have questions about your brother. Questions you have answers too."

I shook my head no, looking back at the club members, wondering who this strange woman I was talking to was. She looked me up and down like she had me all figured out. "I get it," She told me, "this act you're putting on. Not wanting to talk to me, because you don't snitch on family. I've interviewed members of the Falcone Family who've squealed on family for less."

Lois lowered her voice, "Listen, just tell me, off the record, and I won't report what you say. Besides." Lois looked around before looking back at me, "I'm certain you want to get home, rather than sit out here."

"What do you want?" I asked her.

"Smallville Cemetery. Know where it is?" she asked.

I nodded at her, handed her my bag and walked back to the club, to tell them I was getting a ride home from Clark's new girlfriend. They oohed and awed jokingly as I went back to where Lois was, getting in the car with her.

She went to start the engine but I held up my hand. "Off the record, everything in this car."

Lois sighed, pulling out a tape recorder and placing it in the cup holder. "You people are so difficult." She complained as she started the car.

She drove out from the school, driving through downtown with me in silence. "listen, Ms. Lane, you didn't need me to find the Cemetery, so why am I here?" I asked. Lois smirked again. "Pete Ross said you were difficult."

"You talked to Pete Ross?"

"Pete Ross told me where your house was, and a simple visit to your school's attempt of a website showed me where you were. Of course, it took me going through a good chunk of North America to find out that NoVille, Kansas was the place to start."

"Well, first of all, nobody calls Smallville 'NoVille'. Second, if you go to where my house is, just drive like another mile downwards, you'll find the cemetery there. I can walk to it from my backyard. A long walk, but that's Kansas life for you."

Lois looked at me, surprised yet impressed. "How'd you-"

"If you talked to Pete Ross, he must have told you my brother and father were close. It also doesn't take a Pulitzer to figure out my Dad's dead."

We're quiet for a moment as Lois turns left, out of the city, heading to where the Farm is.

"How did you meet him. My brother?" I asked her.

"He saved my life," she replied. "I got into some trouble, I got hurt. He saved my life and tended to my wound. I think he has a story that needs to be told, a story that could give a lot of people some hope."

"That sounds like him. Saving a complete strangers life, not taking the credit for it." I smiled, thinking of my brother, forever a boy scout.

"You know I know his name, right?" Lois asked, "Or this is some loyalty thing, where you won't mention his name? Because if you don't mention his name, then in your mind, you didn't have this conversation and you've still protected your brother."

We pulled up to the farm, parking right next to the mailbox. She turned and looked at me with baby blue eyes.

"You know, you look like him. I know he's adopted or whatever, but I see his kindness in you. You share his eyes."

I smirk, knowing she's trying to flatter me. Clark's and I don't have the same eyes. Clark's eyes are an intense blue color, while mine are grey like Daddy's were.

I look at her, knowing she's really desperate for something. I feel almost sorry for her, almost.

"Look, Ms. Lane…" I pause, trying to figure out what I'm going to say to her, "You seem nice. But, my brother… he doesn't want attention, he doesn't want fame."

"What does he want, then?"

I look at her. "To help people. To be kind. That's all he wants."

I take off my seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride," I tell her, knowing Momma would be disappointed if I didn't thank her. Lois doesn't say anything back, driving off as I walked down to the house.

Momma was in the kitchen when I walked in, surprised. "Honey it's fifteen after four, what are you doing home so early."

I talked as I hung up my coat and took off my hat. "We finished early, I was going to go to the iHop to wait for you but I got a ride."

"That Lang boy?" Momma asked. I shook my head no. "The Lois lady."

Momma paused, looking at me suspiciously. "I didn't tell her anything if that helps." I tried to assure her.

Momma didn't say anything, going back to the kitchen, starting to focus on washing the dishes.

"We're not kind."

"Whose's not kind?" I asked, slipping my backpack off my back and onto the chair in the kitchen.

"Mankind. As a whole, of course, there are exceptions. Like you and Clark, and your father. And others I can't name off the top of my head. But when someone like Clark comes along…"

Momma paused, before looking at me, tears forming in her eyes. "They won't see him like we see him. They'll view him as a monster."

"I know Momma," I hugged her close, my voice choking up with emotion, "I know."


	4. Chapter Three

The next day had an unnatural calm to it, peace returning to the bubble known as Smallville, Kansas. Lois Lane, the big city reporter, had apparently left to go back home, at least according to Pete Ross. She had stopped into the iHop on her way out of town, stopping to thank him. Momma had called Pete in the morning, the idea of someone investigating her son troubling her.

"Why would she drop It like that?" Momma asked after hanging up the phone. I grabbed an apple for my breakfast, hearing the familiar sound of the bus making its way up the street. "Maybe the story went cold, I don't know."

I went to school, turning in my homework, listening to the teachers attempt to teach us. I didn't pay as much attention as I should have during the classes, daydreaming about my future, leaving Smallville, possibly even Kansas as a whole. Solve Clark's problems, get the family back together. Those sort of pipe dreams.

I rode the bus home because the farm is just far enough that I qualify for busing. Momma was always unsure about that, considering Clark used to get bullied on it. Of course, there was an incident involving Clark when he was about ten or so. Of course, nobody talks about it, but everyone but me knows the details of what happened. Oh well.

I rode the bus home in silent with the other ten or so kids that live out among us, listening to a podcast about astronomy, per usual. I thought about that Lois lady, what exactly did she do that made Clark have to save her?

Of course, the idea that Clark now had a girl chasing after him rather than him chasing after a girl made me laugh. He never really had much luck with the ladies.

After the bus came to the stop, I got my things and walked the quarter mile to the farm, where Momma was out gardening. We nodded at each other and I went inside, placing my stuff on the kitchen table, getting a thing of water from the fridge, and starting my homework.

For a house that's just the two of us, it's awfully quiet.

It was late in the afternoon, when Momma went outside, going to tend to the front garden. Dusty followed her out, sitting on the front porch, 'supervising her.' I sat in the kitchen, working on the various problems my teacher deemed important to do at home. I didn't mind though: I was probably a handful of kids who even bothered to do them at that point.

It was only when Dusty begin to bark, that my focus on the homework stopped. "Get him, get him!" I heard Momma cheer.

I left my seat, running to the front door, opening it as fast as I could. I saw Dusty running towards a tall figure, slowly making his way to the house.

It was Clark.

Clark had come home!

I looked at Momma, who couldn't stop herself from grinning, walking up to him. I watched him from the porch, attempting to keep myself from grinning, trying to look serious. It was an inside joke between us.

Momma walked over to him, hugging him, talking with him quietly as they approached the porch. She was probably telling him about the Reporter, teasing him at whatever his response was, playing it cool.

Clark approached the house, stopping to look at me.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said in his most serious voice, "do you know my sister? Goes by the name Beatrice, about, I don't know, yay high?" Clark lowered his free hand to just under his hip, grinning like a fool at me as he did.

"Bullshit, you know I'm at least armpit height!" I skipped down the steps, going over to hug him. Momma, who would usually try and correct me for using language, simply smiled. "Honey, can you go check and see if we have anything for Clark to drink?" Momma asked. I pulled away from my brother, running back to the house.

Naturally, the fridge didn't have anything other than Momma's sweet tea. I poured a glass, walking back to the door, but not opening it, pausing.

Momma and Clark were sitting on the steps, the tone had shifted. Clark must have figured out something about his parents because his energy had completely changed. There was no longer this sadness to him. For the first time, he seemed…happy.

I know, crazy, right?

But Momma's had changed. I guess Momma had been selfish.

To her, God had given her two miracles. One from her body, and one from the stars. But with Clark, she…I guess she had never actually considered that Clark had at one point, been someone else's baby.

"I'm worried they're gonna take you away from me." Momma's voice choked up once again.

Clark chuckled and hugged Momma. "I'm not going anywhere, Mom." He told her.

He didn't know.

"So, when you found Clark, what did you do?" I asked Momma, as we laid on the bed together.

Momma readjusted herself so that baby Dusty, sleeping between us, would have more room. "We kept him. I told your Daddy, there was no way I was going to let anyone take him from me. So, for the first week, we didn't leave the house unless we had too. Your daddy drove two hours away, to buy diapers and formula. I was so worried the government was going to show up and take him. After a week, nobody came. So, we took him to the doctor and said we delivered him at home. Naturally, I told Momma, Granny Clark, the truth but she…She was a big believer in if the Universe wanted me to have a baby, it was going to give me a baby. Even if he fell out of the sky."

"Bea! Bea!" Momma's voice brought me out of that memory. I opened the door, going to where Clark and Momma were sitting. "We only have your sweet tea, Ma, we don't really have anything else."

"I can go make a run," Clark volunteered as he stood up but Momma hushed him. "Bea, show him up to his room, I'll go make a store run." Momma stood up, grabbing not only my hand but Clarks as well. "Your daddy would be so proud of both of you."

I brought Clark into his bedroom, where he let out a loud whistle of surprise. "I would have thought Ma would have turned this into like a home gym or something by now. instead, it's a time capsule to 1998."

I throw myself on the bed and look at the ceiling. There's a mobile of planets hanging from the ceiling, Daddy probably bought them when Clark was a kid.

I used to come in here, look at the planets, be reminded that there was life out there, beyond the stars.

Clark throws down his bag, slides onto the bed next to me. He can't flop on the bed next to me, mainly because he's afraid he'll send me up into the air, like in a Looney Tunes cartoon.

"So, how's school?" Clark asks. "Seriously?" I tease, "Your first question is to ask if Smallville High is still shitty?"

"Well, I was hoping it had gotten less shitty," Clark teases, rolling onto his side to talk to me. I shrug at him.

"Same old, same old."

"You know I can read minds, right?" Clark asks. I roll on my side, propping my head on my arm so that I'm able to look at him. "is that so?"

"Yeh."

"So what am I thinking?"

Clark chuckles for a moment. "Let's see," Clark turns away from me, counting off with his fingers. "Your teachers don't want you to be in your advanced classes because sexism, you're still upset at being kicked off of field hockey, and…" he paused, biting his lip before looking at me. "You and the Lang Boy? Do I need to get all overprotective dad like?"

Tommy Lang, Lana's nephew, had gone with me to homecoming in the fall, coming home from Kansas State to do so. Afterwords, he had driven me to the 7'11, giving me my first kiss when I attempted to give him his Slurpee.

I know what you guys are thinking: Clark and Lana had a thing back in the day, and apparently Daddy and Laura Lang, Lana's Ma, apparently had gone to Homecoming together as well.

I know. Our families are basically one generation away from it being almost incestuous.

"Isn't he like twenty?" Clark asked, waiting for me to lie to him, tell him it wasn't true. I looked away, quietly smiling as Clark laughed.

"It's nothing serious!" I told him. Clark rolled his eyes. "Okay, sis."

We both giggled for a moment before I looked back at him. "Did you find your answers?"

Clark got quiet, picking at some imaginary fluff that was on his shirt. "Perhaps."

"What was he like?" I asked him. "Your dad?"

Clark looked at me, surprised. "How did you-"

"I can't read minds, but I'm your sister. You can't keep anything from me." I tell him.

"Younger sister, if I remember correctly." Clark rolls his eyes.

"Still," I told him, "for the entirety of my young life, you've been in search of answers neither of us even knew existed."

"I knew they existed," Clark mutters.

I look at my older brother. "Clark…"

Clark sighs. "So…I didn't actually meet him. I met, like this hologram that was like his…consciousness. You know what that means right?"

"It's like the mind, right?"

"Pretty much. He…he explained that I had been sent here. To live."

"Well, is there like a chance you can see them, I mean if the planet is-"

Clark looked away suddenly, which stopped me mid-sentence.

"Bea…they're dead. I'm…I'm the last of my kind."

I felt powerless, speechless even. I leaned over to him, hugging my brother, doing the only thing I knew to do.

"Did they give you a name?"

"Kal-El," Clark said softly. "He says the El part, means hope."

"Will it still be weird to call you Clark though?" I asked.

Clark chuckled again, kissing my forehead as he did so. "Only if I can keep calling you Squirt, even if you keep doing this growing up thing."

"Deal." I smile as I say this, happy to have my brother home.

It's later that night when it becomes clear Clark is in fact, NOT the last of his kind.

Momma gets back from the store, having quickly loaded up on stuff she figured Clark needed: shaving stuff, beer, new boxers shorts, you know, guy stuff.

Momma is beyond happy that Clark was back, with no possible end date in sight. She wasn't going to wake up the next morning and find Clark has left, having hitched a ride on one of the many trucks that pass through Smallville on a daily basis.

There had been a suggestion, made by Momma, of all people, to go out for dinner.

We never went out for dinner, not even if was the two of us. I mean, I knew we weren't rich, but we could afford to go out every once in a while, and it wouldn't put a dent in the bank.

But Clark, he…he wanted something made by Momma. Clark said he was living on limited money and so he lived on crappy fast food and ramen when he was traveling. "Those don't look like ramen muscles boy," Momma teased, poking the huge muscles on his arm.

And I didn't mind. I liked sitting around the table with my two favorite people, the familiar sound of metal utensils scraping on the ceramic plates, as we discussed the day's events, and made each other laugh, sometimes for no reason at all.

Momma went out into the garden, to go pick the vegetables she's been saving for this very moment. Well, she's selling them at the farmer market once a month, but she figured she could sacrifice a few to give her son a nice, welcome home meal.

Clark was in the kitchen, a hand towel over his shoulder, helping clean the kitchen and prep for the meal, while also enjoying a nice ice-cold beer.

Well, knowing the fridge we had at the time, it was probably lukewarm at best. I sat in the living room, sitting at Momma's desk, attempting to finish my homework as fast as I could.

Clark had turned on the tv, settling for a football game on one of the oldie sports channels between Kansas State and Louisiana Tech.

Clark was leaning his hand against the door frame, taking a break from working in the kitchen, to watch the game.

"Are we winning?" I asked Clark,

"We're up by thirteen." Clark tells me, "I've seen this before, we win twenty-nine to nothing."

"Doesn't sound like a good game," I muttered. I can tell Clark is rolling his eyes and about to shoot back a response, but stops when Momma yells for him.

"Yeh?" he asks. He runs out back.

I don't pay attention to it, until a few seconds later, when the football game stops, a reporter "who is here to interrupt with some breaking news!"

I turn, looking at the TV, seeing a spaceship-like object being broadcast on the screen.

I realize how crazy this must seem. I mean, not everyone grows up knowing their brother is an actual alien. Or that, you know, aliens exist and they don't look like little green men.

I get up from my work, going into the kitchen and opening the door. "The TV, Momma, it says-"

Momma stands in front of me, a bucket full of veggies under her arm. Clark stands behind her, their eyes looking up at the sky, where you can faintly see the spacecraft.

"I know baby girl, I know." Momma lifts her free hand towards me, as though to assure me she knows.

I go up to them, Clark putting a hand around my shoulder, pulling me close as we witness this momentous event together as a family.

We stare up at that object for a few minutes, watching it.

And then everything goes dark.

Literally.

All of us jump as we hear the kitchen light break, followed by the sound of nothingness, every light seemingly in the house, and as we later found out, almost the entire world, went out.

The three of us looked around, confused as to what was going on.

And then, the tv came on. It didn't flip on, like one does normally, to watch. A bright light emerged from the screen, followed by the sound that was like nails on a chalkboard.

Clark motioned at us to stay, as he carefully walked back to the house.

"Momma?" I whispered. Momma placed a finger to her mouth, and we quietly followed behind Clark, who by that point, slowly opened the door, the screen material making no noise as he did so.

"YOU ARE NOT ALONE. YOU ARE NOT ALONE." The voice repeated.

We approached the TV carefully. A bright white light emerged from the screen, as a voice repeated 'YOU ARE NOT ALONE" on a loop.

It was when we got into view of the TV, that we realized the words YOU ARE NOT ALONE were being flashed on the screen as well.

I wondered how many other families, gathered around the TV, were seeing this as well. Were these people feeling weird feelings of hope and or fear, as they realized that the idea of this big never-ending, always expanding universe, had suddenly grown smaller?

Suddenly the screen changed. The input so terrible that you couldn't tell who was standing in front of the screen. But then a voice emerged.

"My name is General Zod." A Commanding Voice declared to the world.

I was behind Clark at this point and saw his hand ball itself into a fist.

I knew then that this Zod was no friend of Earth. Clark knew something about this invader, something related to his home.

Something related to his parents.

Zod spoke about how a member of his kind, hiding among us. Zod made the member of his species seem to be a terrible criminal, of terrible crimes that only one could imagine.

Clark glanced at my Mother, an odd look on his face as he did so, as though to ask if she was thinking the same thing if Zod was talking about him.

Momma looked back him, letting him know, without saying anything, she would kill for him.

Clark looked at me, and I nodded at him as well. Clark turned back at the tv.

It was then Zod made a threat against our world, addressing Clark as Kal-El as he did. He told Clark to surrender within twenty-four hours or to watch our world die because of his actions.

Momma glanced at Clark, making me realize that Clark hadn't told her his birth name. knowing Clark, he was going to later, but now she had to found out in the most unfortunate way.

With that, the lights turned back on, a light bursting as it did, causing Momma to scream and drop her bucket, the vegetables falling to the floor.

Clark grabbed us both, holding us in a hug. Momma began to cry, likely from the shock of everything that just happened.

Clark mentioned to me later he was surprised that I didn't cry like Momma did. I was too furious to cry. Instead, I shook with fury, silent vengeance being sworn against the alien known as Zod, for threatening my planet. My Home.

My brother.


	5. Chapter Four

The news of Zod's message played late into the night, the major networks covering it over and over again, trying to analyze every single word that Zod said, seeing if there was a meaning behind his madness.

Momma couldn't pull herself away from it, watching it with a Mother's intensity, struggling inwards with a roller coaster of emotions, most importantly with the feeling that she was unable to protect her son, her miracle child.

I attempted to put my mind off It, focusing on my homework, only to find it was quite hard to focus on homework when aliens threating not only your planet but your brother as well.

I gave up, going upstairs, going to his room, quietly opening the door.

Clark was lying on his bed, his face turned away from the door.

Momma said that when Daddy died, Clark did the same thing for almost a week, Before Granny Clark pulled him off the bed, ran a comb through his hair, and forced him into a suit and tie, telling him that's what Daddy would have wanted.

"Clark?" I asked, my voice going off.

Clark didn't respond, so I tip-toed into the room, sitting on the other side of the bed, from him.

"C-Clark?" I asked again, patting his shoulder.

Clark turned, a surprised look on his face. "Bea? What's, what's up?"

"Well for starters, aliens from your home planet are threating ours."

"You mean yours," Clark said a solemn voice.

"Well, I like to think it's yours too." I tell him, playing with my hands as I speak, "I mean, you do live here, don't you?"

Clark nodded for a moment before sitting up to look at me.

"What do you think, Bea, of this? Of everything?"

I shrugged, looking back at my brother. "I…I don't trust Zod."

"But what about Earth?"

"I…I don't know."

I get up, nervously pacing as I try and tell him what I'm feeling.

"Clark…for as long I can remember, you've been the person I've aspired to be."

"Bea-" Clark sighed, attempting to interrupt me.

"No, Clark, let me say what I gotta say. All I ever wanted, was for you to find answers, answers to questions you have spent my entire life looking for. Answers even I wasn't sure existed. But I also wanted to protect you, because, that's what Daddy wanted."

At this point, both Clark and I were near tears, crying over a man that hasn't been alive for nearly twenty years.

"And now you got answers, but at what cost!" I asked, sitting back down on the bed next to Clark. "I mean, what will Zod do to you? I just got my brother back, and now I'm going to lose him again."

At this point, my vision began to get blurry, my tears blocking my field of vision. Clark, his eyes tearing up as well, held me close, letting me able to blubber incoherently.

"I-I-I Just wanted-d-d to Protect-t-t you." I hiccupped to him.

"I know, I know," Clark tried to coo at me, "But who's going to protect you?" he asked.

I grabbed onto his shirt, digging my head into his chest, letting me cry into him.

I felt his hand on the back of my hand, his fingers running over my locks of hair.

After a while, I stopped crying, my breathing returning to normal.

"What are you going to do?" I asked after a while. Clark paused before answering. "I don't know."

We sat in silence before Clark asked something. "Do you remember when you were younger, and you couldn't sleep?"

"Not really?" I was surprised by this because I could usually remember little events like this.

"They were usually far and in-between. Little memories. One time you tried to jump in while Lana was in the bed with me."

"I wouldn't do that," I said in an accusatory tone. "You liar!"

"Well, that's right. It wasn't Lana. It was a different girl." I looked up and Clark smiled at me, trying to let me know it was okay to laugh if I wanted too.

"What happened next?"

"Well, usually I could move you out of the room, get you a thing of juice, and you'd be back asleep by the time I showed up with juice."

"No wonder Momma stopped buying apple juice," I muttered. "Was that it?"

"Most of the time. But sometimes you would want a story."

"What type of story?"

"Usually the one about how you were born."

"Why?"

"No idea. So, I would tell you how Ma and Dad were surprised when you showed up but grew to love you. You were early, but okay."

"Really?"

"Of course not, they thought you were going to die."

Clark lays down on the bed, I snuggle up to him, still holding me close.

"Did… Did Daddy know I was going to live?"

Clark paused, causing me to look up, wondering why he paused. "Or did he…did he die thinking I was gonna already be there?" my voice quivered as I asked.

"I…I like to think he knew. I remember the night you were born, how he came home at like two in the morning, he's sitting on the couch with his beer and sandwich. I come downstairs and I make a sandwich and he gives me a beer and we're sitting there and he's going through how Mom's in ICU, and you're being strapped to all this stuff because they're not sure if you're going to live. And he just looks at me with this smirk. He didn't say anything but, I like to think he knew."

Clark holds me close, letting me smile for a little bit. My eyes begin to feel heavy, a lull of sleep coming over me.

"Clark?" I ask.

"Yeh?"

"I…I kinda like that reporter lady."

"Lois?"

"Yeh, Lois."

Clark slightly chuckled, letting silence fall between us. "I…I like her too."

When I was younger, Clark would leave in the early morning, before I would wake. The night before would have tired me out beyond compared, usually because we would have done something that would have tired me out so. Sometimes we would go into one of the other cities, catch a movie, eating our body weight in popcorn and candy during the trailers.

Sometimes he would take me to an arcade, where we would play for hours, before driving home with the windows down, the music blasting in the quiet night sky as he drove.

Or even, Momma would make a really nice dinner, usually Fried Chicken and Homemade Rolls that would melt in your mouth. And we would sit around the kitchen and talk and laugh for hours upon hours, empty plates in front of us, the contents on said plates having long since been devoured.

No matter what, when I would wake up the next day, Clark would have long since been gone.

I was told the reason behind it was him not wanting to say goodbye, because it would feel like he would never see us again, even though we all knew we would.

Later on, I found out that wasn't the case. Apparently, when I was younger, I used to have such a bad reaction to him leaving, both he and Momma decided that it would be better for him to leave before I woke up, so as to not make me upset at his departure.

As I Say that, I have to add that I would know when Clark would say goodbye to me. I never really connected it to him

He would come in, kiss the top of my forehead, pat my cheek and be on his way. No words, no promises of further adventures together. Just a simple parting between two siblings.

And like most times, I heard him moving around, various clothes being rustled around. I woke up, and by waking up I mean stretching and moaning.

"You should get some sleep." I heard him say. I opened one eye to look at him. He was standing in front of the mirror, looking at himself.

I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out of it. "What time is it, I'm going to miss my-"

"I want you to stay here until I get the Zod thing figured out." his was serious, commanding. As though he was a father talking to his children, rather than an overprotective older brother trying to boss a younger sister around.

I look up at Clark, who is standing in front of his closet mirror, adjusting a full-on blue body suit. "As far as I know, this is the safest place for you and Ma to be. Promise me you won't leave. Bea?"

He turns to look at me, motioning with his hands towards himself.

"Thoughts?"

"You look like you belong to Cirque du Soleil."

Clark chuckles. "My thoughts exactly."

The suit was a dark blue, which seemed like a tight fit on him, like a chainmail style wetsuit, something that seemed unfamiliar, almost alien to my human eyes. Clark completed the outfit with crimson red boots and cape.

I got up, running my hand over the large red S on his chest.

"Why is there an S here?" I asked him.

"It's my name, my traditional name. Kal-El. El means…hope."

"That's a fun fact."

"Yes. Another one is this is actually Kryptonian underwear."

I removed my hand quickly, wiping it on my pants. Clark chuckles at this. "I should probably lead with that next time."

"Or not mention it. That's probably the better option." I look at Clark. "Why the outfit."

"It's a gift from my father, my birth father. I don't have any of my planets traditional robes, so I'm stuck with this. I figured if I'm to meet with Zod today, then, I should show up in something from Krypton, let him know, I'm a man of two worlds."

"So, you're surrendering to him?"

"Not exactly. I'm going to the government first. They'll likely hand me over to Zod, and I'll take it from there."

Clark looked at me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"I need to do this." He said, attempting to hide his emotions behind his baby blue eyes. I nodded. "Just promise me, that you'll come home safe."

"I will."

Clark got a twinkle in his eye as he looked at me.

"I discovered a new power on my journey."

"What?"

"Bea, ever seen a Man fly?"


End file.
